


A Different Sky

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Phantom Menace - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Slavery, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-19
Updated: 2005-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: Going through some old wips and just throwing up my hands. One shot, again with the slave trade. Also, Obi-wan is quite young when this starts. I had Antonio Banderas in mind for Aeja Dun and Cameron Manheim for De Jen.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Male Character(s), Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Kudos: 1





	A Different Sky

A Different Sky

fra

2005

On his twelfth nameday, Benin Ken’Obi sold himself to the highest bidder. At least he hoped the bids would be high. The House of course would handle all the details as well as the financial arrangements. He'd given them his specifications, the parts of the contract that were not negotiable, but allowed the Matrone elbow room to add addenda if she felt it was within his abilities and his best interest. 

The process was nothing if not thorough and upon agreement, before the deal was finalized, Obi-wan would meet his prospective owner, read the contract and be examined if the buyer so wished. 

Some waived the inspection, choosing to use the first encounter as their measure. Some, the very orthodox, demanded proof of clean blood and virtue, before their own or their appointed representatives eyes. Usually in front of a holo-cube with the actual buyer viewing from a distance.

Obi-wan didn't mind either way. His body was what he had to live on, or rather it's abilities, and he was too much a pragmatist to be shy about it. If the deal was good and the buyer somewhat acceptable, physically, then Obi-wan was prepared to make the deal. 

He'd risen and prepared carefully; bathed, combed and robed to the best of his and the Houses abilities and come to wait in the room with massive windows, angled to gather the best view of Coruscant's horizon. It was a view he knew well and hoped never to see again. 

Time seemed to slow. Several meals arrived, were picked at and removed. Trips to the lavatory and to re-arrange recalcitrant robes and to simply stretch anxious young legs, unaccustomed to long periods of inactive waiting. 

As Coruscant's sun began to mar the skyline with flame tipped fingers, Obi-wan admitted to himself that he might not have been bought. The outer light failed and Obi-wan's reflection became clear in one corner of a huge window, his trim figure made tiny by the scale of it. 

When it was full night, Obi-wan rose from the window seat, turned to the inner door and waited for the mate to come and lead him back to the dormitory. 

But it was not the inner door that opened. 

There was a scraping sound as the outer door slid open and a man entered.  
Obi-wan turned to meet him. “You’ve come.” he said. 

“Yes.” said the man. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“May I see the contract, Master?” Obi-wan held out a hand. The man looked him up and down, a lingering assessment that made Obi-wan straighten his back and lift his chin. 

He was anxious to know how much his offer had changed, what this man would be to him. What he would be to this man as well. Master closed the small distance between them and laid the dataset in Obi-wan's hand. 

He accepted it and looked gratefully into the man’s, his Master's, eyes. They were brown. Obi-wan smiled a little and turned his attention to the dataset. 

He’d made more than he expected. The lion’s share would go to the House, of course, but he stood to walk away with nearly a half a million republic credits. A quick scan of the requirements explained why. 

He’d asked for a military purchase, along the lines of a personal guard, trained for a specific duty. His Master had added training as a Courtesan as well as a position as first within the household structure. 

So. A great deal to ask of a slave. Even a voluntary one. 

His mind reeled. It was a good position. It could be a great one. His contract was for five years but could be renewed if both parties were agreeable. He looked again at his Master and calculated what this would cost him. He’d gain the training, all that he wanted and more he wasn’t sure of, but it would be at the hands of this man and that was an unknown. 

He was taller than Obi-wan, but then most of the House was. He had the look of someone from the hot worlds, a desert region perhaps, dark hued and black haired. His face was a bit sharp, but there was a softness around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes were the tell tale lines left by laughter. 

There was only one more thing Obi-wan wanted to know.

“Master, may I know your name?” It was not disclosed and it was at the discretion of the buyer whether or not to be addressed so informally. Obi-wan held his breath.

“You are mine, Serra. Why do you wish to know this thing?” Master's voice was soft and husky. For a moment Obi-wan forgot what he’d asked and the words stumbled in his mouth. 

“I,” he cursed his fumbling tongue and that seemed to set his thoughts straight. “With respect, Master, I wish to know how to address you.” he paused for a moment. 

Master looked dubious. Obi-wan had no right to ask. It was a child’s mistake, he cursed again, and his cheeks pinked handsomely. Master face broke into a grin and he let out a husky laugh taking Obi-wan’s chin in hand, making him look up. 

His chuckles died away leaving them looking intently at each other. Obi-wan confused and embarrassed and his Master with warm regard. “That,” he brushed his thumb over Obi-wan’s cheek, “was very charming.” He could only have meant the blush. Obi-wan tried to look down but Master held his chin, keeping their eyes in contact. 

He was but a breath away; closer than anyone had been to Obi-wan since his time at the House had begun. 

“Yes, very charming, indeed. I,” he pointed to his chest, “am Aeja Dun.” 

He smiled. 

Obi-wan smiled back.

“Thank you, Master Dun.” Obi-wan whispered, eyes wide. 

His heart was pounding, he could feel it in his neck and belly and lower, in his pants. Master Aeja Dun touched his lips to Obi-wan’s and the deal was struck. He slid an arm around Obi-wan’s waist and drew him into a tight embrace. Obi-wan’s eyes closed, his mouth opened and he gave himself to Aeja Dun, with all of his youthful energy. 

~~~~~~~~~

Later, Obi-wan lay panting and tangled in Aeja Dun’s bed, clinging to consciousness and thanking all the little gods for his good fortune. Master lay along Obi-wan’s back, one arm around Obi's slim waist, kissing his neck and shoulder. Obi-wan slid his hand under the long, tanned one and clasped the fingers with his own. 

As his pulse settled and his breathing returned to something like normal, he began to sort through the days images, trying to untie his feelings and metabolize his impressions. He'd been bought, kissed, transported and deflowered all within a shockingly small span of time and it was proving a bit difficult to accept. 

Perhaps accept was not the word. Perhaps adjust to was how to put it. Aeja Dun was a man of quiet purpose and quick humor. His dark intensity fascinated Obi-wan just as the contrast of his toast brown skin contrasted with his own porcelain limbs. But the moment Obi-wan had been touched by him, he knew, somewhere inside, that he would be safe with this man and so he had let himself be kissed and led to a transport and now he was here. 

Here was the middle of a large sleeping couch in a room looking out on the traffic of Corusant from an obscenely high level, the cost of which I could only wonder at. As he could only wonder at having a half a million credits to his name. 

True, the money would not be his until his fifth year of service, but it felt strange to think he was so rich at such a young age. And all he had to do was belong to Aeja Dun. He turned himself in Aeja's arms, so he could see the face of his new owner. 

Aeja pulled him closer in sleep, murmuring something soft in his native, rolling language. He admired the sculpted lips and rich black hair and let himself be held more closely, breathing in the rich spicy fragrance of him. 

~~~~~~~~~

When Obi-wan turned fourteen, his voice began to break and he suffered a fortnight's anguish over its loss. Master took pity on him and sent him to a country estate on Naboo, and there Obi-wan languished until his voice had righted itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-wan had seen different planets on holo-vids, visited several with Master and been told of a few with such exaggerated attributes, he was sure the teller was lying. None compared with his first view of Naboo. It was green and blue with white drifts of clouds, it’s nimbus clean and sapphire bright, a complete opposite to the inner worlds he’d known.

Unlike most visitors, Obi-wan’s vessel was owned and piloted by one of Master's companies. They took off and landed on his estates only, much to Obi-wan’s dismay. He’d’ve loved to have seen a space station or landside port. He supposed he could bear not seeing the thriving central port on Naboo, especially when he saw the sweeping arches and soaring domes of Master house. 

The great metal hulk of their transport settled ungainly onto the landing pad, stopping with a crashing lurch and a long, hissing sigh. De Jen swung the side door of their compartment open and they scrambled down the gangway and into the Naboo sunshine.

Obi-wan was stunned and terrified. He'd lived on Corusant his whole, young life. Green was something you saw in the garden or in a holo-vids or on a plate. Not this huge, luscious, endless plain of green. Wide open to the sky. Obi felt he might throw up.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly two standard days before Obi-wan could be persuaded to leave the house. His first, shaky steps from the transport became a white knuckled, stiff backed walk to the generous balcony along the landing pad. From there it was a short, focused walk through the transparent gangway and into the main receiving room of the house. 

Obi-wan wanted to kiss the dark, enclosed entry hall, reveling in its thick walls and covered windows. De Jen was at his elbow, straight faced and laughing-eyed she led him through the broad open hallways to the residential wing of the estate. 

Obi-wan's rooms were spacious and dignified, more than could be expected though where his streak of disbelief came from he'd yet to find out. Master was unfailingly generous. With this as with any aspect of Obi-wan's training or care. Sometimes, Obi-wan pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. Each time he failed to wake up. 

On his second day, De Jen stopped coddling him and demanded he leave his room or she'd come in and take him out by force. And was he still a child? This put Obi-wan's back up because, of course he was not a child. He'd been an adult in the eyes of the republic when he'd sold himself to Master and who did De Jen think she was, anyway? 

Ten minutes later she deposited him ungracefully under the yawning branches of the nut tree at the end of his veranda. 

~~~~~~~~~~

By his fifth day, Obi-wan was joining De Jen for an early morning run along the great arc of shoreline north of the big, main house. The mornings were cool and somewhat misty and Obi-wan found the dim light allowed him to feel less afraid of the verdant open countryside. 

De Jen led them along the wide, groomed path, her stride long and graceful. She was a remarkable woman. And she was his friend. Or, as much of a friend as he could have in Master house. 

She was his first attendant and the one who'd shown him how to navigate the waters of the huge house he'd landed in as well as how to weasel a midnight snack out of the head cook.  
She was a wealth of canny knowledge and funny stories. Obi-wan felt at ease in her company. Felt he could trust her. Which was probably why Master had sent her with him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

On day twenty two, the scheduled return day, neither De Jen nor Obi-wan were present to board the freighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nor were they present on day twenty three, or twenty four.

~~~~~~~~~

The inner and outer doors whooshed open all at once revealing a phalanx of personnel. Chief among them was Aeja Dun, Master, in black from head to toe, arms crossed and hair clubbed. It was a look Obi-wan had seen directed at others and had fervently hoped never to see turned on himself. 

His skin prickled icy hot and he felt the beginnings of a knot the size of his fist somewhere south of his solar plexus. He was not foolish enough to ask for mercy or to cry like a child, he hoped. He lifted his chin and walked down the ramp ahead of De Jen stopping just short of Master angry figure. 

"Serra, I've missed you." His deceptively mild, husky voice caressed Obi-wan just as the hand, unwound from his chest, caressed his cheek. "I hope you're voice has settled. Did you enjoy Naboo?" The hand rose to his chin, tilting his face up for a gentle kiss.  
Obi-wan nodded, eyes wide, resolve melting as he looked into fathomless brown eyes. 

"You must understand, Serra, I have more than money invested in you, I have my heart as well to consider." His sibilant words never changed tone or tempo, yet somehow they sounded more dangerous. 

"And my men." He pointed around the room at the strategic placement of advisors and guards. "How would it look to them if I indulged you, let you return when you please, dictate to me what it is you will and will not do?" 

Obi-wan knew and dreaded the answer. Sweat had broken out on his brow and his bowels had sunk somewhere around his knees. "It would not look good, Master." Obi-wan, gasped out, fear strangling his voice. "I'm sorry I've failed you, Master, I…" 

"Shhhh…" Aeja put a finger to his lips, silencing his apology. "Come, Serra, put your arms around my neck." He pulled Obi-wan into an embrace, his warm hands circling around Obi-wan's back. Obi-wan trembled and ducked his head to Master shoulder, whispering sorrowful words of apology and begging for forgiveness. All the while Aeja caressed him and spoke over his shoulder to two advisors and to De Jen. 

A few moments later he felt someone behind him, reach between them and untie his robe. He jerked in Master arms, raising a panicked face, pleading with his eyes. Master looked into them with regret and pressed his lips firmly together. Master arms tightened and Obi-wan felt his trousers released and slide down his legs. 

"Serra, why am I punishing you?" He tilted away so their eyes met. "Tell me." 

"I…we…I disobeyed you, Master." It was little more than a whisper. 

"Yes you did. But more than that, you put yourself in danger. You risked something that was not yours to risk, is that not so?" He waited until Obi-wan nodded. "Out loud, if you please, Serra." 

"Yes. I…put your slave at risk, Master. I…" Again he was hushed. 

"Now I will tell you what will happen. You must remember this, Serra, so this will be difficult. De Jen will lash you a dozen times. De Jen will do it because I entrusted my property to her and she did not do her duty. She will use this," he held up a wicked looking, ridged cane, "and she will make them count. Do you understand, Serra?" 

"Yes…yes…" Obi-wan gasped. 

"And I, Serra, I will hold you, because I did not make clear to you what was expected. If I had, you would not have made this mistake. I must take my own correction, eh, Serra?"

Obi-wan managed a watery smile. Hands came and removed his robes, sliding them off his arms, Master moved his arms away to allow it, and then closed them around him when it was gone. Aeja nodded to De Jen and a moment later, a blazing line of pain was laid across his ass. He pressed into Master, breath stolen by shock.

Another lick of shining, silvery pain and Obi-wan's resolve began to break. He was gasping, sweating, clinging to his owner with wild abandon. There was no where to go. Master held him tight and the blows fell like clock work and somewhere in the middle, Obi-wan cried out in anguish, but nothing stopped it. Nothing. 

True to her word, De Jen made each strike count and by the twelfth and final blow, Obi-wan was a wailing, panting mess.

Master thanked De Jen and the advisors and dismissed them all. Obi-wan never heard them leave. All he could hear was his own ragged breath. All he could feel was the raging agony of his backside and the warm trap of his Master arms. 

"Serra." Master arms slid open, his hands first caressing Obi-wan's cheek, wiping away tears and calming sweat soaked hair then they moved down, unbelievably down and cupped his burning ass in a painful grip. 

"Obi-wan," Master never called him by his name. It took Obi-wan by surprise. "You are still young, Obi-wan, learn from this, I beg you. Don't make me do this again, Serra." He ground their hips together, his semi hard cock and Obi-wan's flaccid member. But the real sensation was the two iron-fingered hands, clawing unbearably at his flaming ass. 

"Please…" Obi-wan begged, "Master I'm sorry, please, please…" he begged for release, and forgiveness, his contrition complete. Obi-wan cried out again, pain flared, nothing he did stopped it. 

Finally satisfied, Aeja released Obi-wan and turned, catching Obi-wan's arm across his shoulders. They made a sad, shaky pair as they exited the hanger and made their way, the whole long way, to Master room. Master laid Obi-wan, face down across his big bed and crouched beside him. 

"Serra, I'm going to hurt you some more." Obi-wan whimpered. "I want you to lay here, face down and think about how this happened, why and how to keep from doing it again. When you've come up with a way, Serra, you will come and find me. Do not dress. Or in any way attend your pain. Do you understand?" 

Obi-wan nodded miserably, eyes wide and glassy, cheeks wet. He watched Master rise and walk from the room and when the door shut, and he knew his Master was gone, he put his head down and indulged in a good, hard cry. 

~~~~~~~~~

By the time he was fifteen, Obi-wan was passingly proficient in several modes of combat, well versed in Corusant social skills and quite a good dancer. He'd learned two languages, one, his Master sensual, romantic native tongue and a version of basic used in the mid-galaxy worlds. 

His bed skills were coming along nicely though he still had to work at control, but he was young and it was to be expected at his age. And his enthusiasm was something Aeja had come to love and sometimes tease him about. 

If Aeja didn't keep a close eye, Obi-wan tended to foster quick and rather hot friendships, all to the good for a courtesan, but he was Aeja's property until his eighteenth year and more than once Aeja had had to reinforce that idea directly on Obi-wan's flesh. 

~~~~~~~~~

By Obi-wan’s eighteenth name day, he had a much better idea of his worth. Not just to Master Dun, but to himself. He spent his nameday going over offers from the top three buyers. It was something he was now responsible for and should get used to. His next contract would be for three years and after that, as work presented itself. 

His Master offer was very good and he’d grown strong and skilled under his care. And while he cared for Master Aeja Dun, he’d been taught carefully to put love and trust in himself. A valuable skill. 

The second offer was from a woman on one of the core planets, but while the money was good, the work was largely decorative, so he put that one aside. 

The third offer was from a man named Tellar, one of Master rivals. Master would not question Obi-wan’s choice. His ownership of Obi-wan was technically over at midnight the night before. Today, Obi-wan was a free man, until he signed an agreement. 

Tellar was tempting. He ran a tight, vigorous trade from mid to outer rim worlds. Obi-wan liked his carefully reasoned arguments, when he heard them and his planning was legendary. 

There was one thing holding him back from taking Tellar’s offer. Despite his overt friendliness, there was a cold, calculating quality to his manners. He never smiled with his eyes. Also, he never came into Master's company with the same guard twice. A seemingly small detail that reflected a lack of trust in his personnel. 

A seemingly small detail to some, but not to Obi-wan. He fingered the dataset, scrolling back to Aeja’s offer. It was very good. Fat with credits and training and next year he’d take on managing the household here on Corusant, not exactly a small thing. 

And he was fond of Aeja. They were good together, in both battle and bed. Unlike some owners, Aeja never tired of Obi-wan, never asked for some other in his bed. More likely he’d send Obi-wan away so he could sleep through the night alone. It wasn’t a hardship being this man’s companion. 

So why, he asked himself, was he stalling? Oh, he could change minor details, add or take away credits or training options, which Aeja would then add or subtract later at his own discretion. Sometimes, from Obi-wan’s flesh. 

Sometimes, though, he wanted to fly free and see another place on his own. Without being accompanied. Perhaps that’s what he should put in the contract. Aeja would give it to him without question, he knew that. He picked up the stylus and began adding addenda to Master contract. Three more years wasn’t too long. 

~~~~~~~~~

Obi-wan Kenobi met Qui-gon Jinn in the first tens of his twenty fifth year. He’d stayed with Aeja Dun, first for the money, but later out of loyalty and comfort. He liked his living and no other buyer had been tempting enough for him to leave. It was by no means unusual for one to serve one owner for half of one’s life. 

Obi-wan had taken to trekking twice a year in unknown territory on distant worlds. First as a way to gain his own feet but later, his keen eye for trade and his Master found ways to use Obi-wan’s thirst for a different sky.


End file.
